Phantom of the Opera: A Hidden Angel
by GypsybyBlood
Summary: What happens when the 'Angel of music' finds an angel of his own?
1. Prolog: Echoes of love: Screams of Hate

Authors Notes: Yes these are very short chapters. Why? BEcasue it helps me keep the plot in line and I use the words too well to draw it out with out getting repetitive. This is my first fanfiction so please bear with me. Thanks D

Prolog- Echoes of love: Screams of hate

The mobs thunderous roar boomed from behind as glass from shattering mirrors chimed as it met the stone floor. The cavern walls rung with the sudden activity as Eric stepped through a portal that had been secreted behind one of the now shattered mirrors. Seconds later the clap and tremor of a falling slab of rock drowned out all sound as it fell to disguise the Phantoms escape route.

The enraged screams of the mob were muffled and soon all together shut out by the thick wall of stone and Erik was left alone the song of Christine and Roule's love humming its echoed tune through his despairing mind. As he stumbled through the narrow and void-dark passage the only audible sounds were those of his footsteps and of muffled sobs of pain, sorrow and shame.

Christine had all at once blessed and cursed him. Her kiss, her sweet kiss had shown him the light and warmth of day, the tenderness of companionship, and the beauty of the day. This day in its brilliant light had revealed the monstrosities of his actions, and it shamed him. How could he ever ask Christine to stay with him after what had been revealed? It would only prove him to the monster he so feared he truly was.

The pain and shame washed over him again as he reached the huge cavern that waited for him at the end of the passage. His despair deepened as he observed the splendorously lit in preparation for what had been hoped to be the beginning of a new life. He couldn't bear the sight of it, this natural cavern which had been transformed, turned into a beautiful, though slightly incomplete, monument to all he desired; now it would only be a mausoleum to shattered hopes and broken dreams.


	2. Chapter one: Despair and Unveilings

Chapter One- Despair and Unveiling

He collapsed into a large thrown like chair and sank into its lush comfort. The exhaustion from his mental and emotional turmoil forced him into a deep and troubled sleep. Sleep offered him no comfort or release, his mind played cruel tricks, twisting the all too recent events into the perfect outcomes and then snatching them away, thrusting him into the deepest of nightmares. To his relief he was forced into the waking world by the splashing of water.

He sat for a moment, willing himself to summon the energy to open his eyes and when he finally managed it he saw a figure draped in a heavy cloak, face covered by a woolen scarf and hangs guarded by thick leather gloves. It was the Carpenter, the only other living soul that knew the inner most caverns of his lair. He sighed, he almost feared it to be a scout of the mob which pursued him. "Hello artisan," he said quietly, rubbing his temples, "I don't think your services will be needed any further." He looked to the marvel that lone carpenter had created, the sculpted and molded beauty that had been carved from the chest cavities of Gaia herself. "This masterpiece will never see its intended purpose." He spoke in a whisper that barely escaped his lips. The melancholy and self loathing were obvious as it came off in great waves from him.

Beautiful statues of marble, silver and gold lined walls and peaked over high shelves. Walls were adorned with beautiful carvings and lined with wall cloths and beautifully crafted furnishings. Everything spilled with light, playing with the candles illuminations to make the this underground splendor shine like a palace. The emotions washed over him again, the though he would die from its overwhelming magnitude, 'And,' he thought, 'I'd be grateful for it.'

The Carpenter chuckled, "No worries Monsieur," he began in that odd, implacable voice of his, "I rather enjoy the challenge. I can sculpt here what only the grandest of architects could see only in their most wild and fantastic of dreams."

Erik grinned despite himself. That impossible artist never seemed troubled and was clever enough to know how to secret in compliments when the old fool knew he would need it. 'He hasn't been anything but trouble since I first hired him.' Erik seethed silently. He had expected him to be reclusive as he went about to work, but he was more jovial than the Spirit of Giving himself. Never had Erik seen him take a break or eat or sleep, whenever he came down to check on the progress the old man was busy carving something into a masterpiece. "Well then," he said, suddenly very annoyed, "am I going to have to run you out or can you find your own way out of here?" The fact was he really didn't want the work finished, 'It would be suiting, reflecting the actualities of what happened.'

"Aye sir, you will have to run me out. I never leave my work incomplete." The oddness of his voice was emphasized by the pounding of his chisel and hammer.

Erik snarled, he was in no mood for games. "You old, impossible fool!" he snarled and shot out of his set rushing at the artist. "I want you out!" he screamed, grabbing the carpenter by the back of his cloak and scarf. The force of his actions however removed the garments and he fell back in utter shock.


End file.
